To become a thief
by DustyStars
Summary: 'He walked with an air of confidence, though he was sure to keep alert and aware of his surroundings. There would be hell to pay if he was caught, after all.' Ancient Egyptian AU one-shot about how one can change one's path so easily.


**Hi there! A small quick one-shot written to try and get rid of my writer's block with the oddest first-line prompt I think I've ever written. This is an Ancient Egyptian AU, also sort of an alternate origin story. Please tell me what you think as I'm considering doing more like this in the future. Enjoy!**

_**Dusty**_

It was almost midnight, and the duck quacked loudly.

A shadowy figure, unseen by all, froze at the sound. The duck continued its journey around the pond in the centre of the courtyard, bathed in light from the near-full moon above, but made no other sound.

The figure remained still for a moment longer before daring to move again. It traversed through the courtyard without making a sound, sticking to the edges where it would be hidden from prying eyes on the balconies above, keeping half crouched and moving with agility similar to that of a panther. Not much could be seen of the shadow's features: only the tell-tale flash of purple and gold would alert an onlooker as to the rank of the person.

In the palace only royals were permitted to wear such colours, for they symbolised power and wealth and were recognisable at a glance. Priests were permitted to adorn themselves in small amounts of golden jewellery, but the rest were only permitted to wear the neutral colours of the rest of the city. Distinction of rank was sacred.

The duck quacked once more as the figure neared the gate towards the end of the courtyard, causing it to freeze once again lest someone come to investigate the noise. Once a few seconds had passed, the figure produced a key from its cloak and quietly unlocked the gate. It squeaked a little as it opened, but was otherwise silent.

It wasn't difficult to find your way round the palace if you had lived here your whole life. The grounds were full of hidden passages and shortcuts that were almost certainly unused now, and had perhaps once been used as escape routes for the nobles during sieges. Now the hidden doors were overgrown with ivy and the traps were mostly disarmed, making them obsolete and easier for the noble to continue undetected.

Slipping through a concealed crack in the wall and heading down a small tunnel, the figure found itself inside a large room adorned with paintings and lavish hangings, all in honour of a small stone dais that stood in the centre of the room. The figure smiled beneath the cloak it wore, and after checking the area for guards, finally removed its hood to survey its surroundings better.

A shock of white hair fell around the face of a young man as he made his way towards the dais, framing his sharp features and partially obscuring his dark eyes, almost black in the moonlight. He walked with an air of confidence, though he was sure to keep alert and aware of his surroundings. There would be hell to pay if he was caught, after all.

On the dais was a small golden object, about the size of a marble and covered in tiny writing, nestled on rich purple fabric and glinting subtly in the light that made it through the high windows. The man smiled: this was what he had come for after all.

He was about to reach out and take it when he heard the tell-tale voices of guards, a patrol perhaps, making their way towards the room with alarming speed. Swiftly, the white-haired man snatched up the golden object and replaced his hood before turning and running for the hidden tunnel, reaching the welcoming shadows just as the first guard emerged from the other end of the room. As much as he would have loved to remain to watch their reactions once they discovered the golden object's absence, the man knew it would not benefit him to linger, and so headed through the tunnel swiftly.

He had reached the courtyard once again when he heard the shouts of alarm echoing from behind him and he had made it to his horse by the time the bells had started chiming, alerting everyone to the crisis. Smirking to himself the man mounted his horse and as the first few people began to emerge, galloped off towards the main gate, reaching it before it closed.

As he left the palace he took one last look behind him at the place he had once called home. A slightly regretful look crossed his face fleetingly before it was replaced by a feral grin, and he turned and galloped through the quiet city, golden object hidden within the folds of his cloak.

And that's when the Pharaoh's son became a thief.


End file.
